Secret Serendipity
by autopilots
Summary: Riverdale in the rearview mirror, Jughead thought he finally had his life together. He moved to New York City after graduating college to begin work at a publishing company, only to find his life derailed by his mysterious neighbor, Betty. In which Betty is hiding a dark secret, and Jughead won't let it go. Adulthood AU, Betty and Jughead don't know each other
1. Chapter 1

Jughead spent a grand total of one hour and seven minutes unpacking his belongings into his new apartment.

Spending those months being homeless as a teenager had really paid off – his habit of only owning the essentials had followed him into his adult years, making his move to New York City after college much easier than expected.

He placed his last two picture frames on his nightstand, one of him and Jellybean as children, and the other with Archie from the past summer, both home from their respective college graduations before heading off to their real-world jobs – Jughead to a position at a publishing company in New York City and Archie to a record label in Boston. Jughead smiled fondly at the photos and then collapsed backward onto his bed with a happy sigh. His apartment was exactly what he needed, its small size suiting him well after his time in the drive-in projection booth and school closet, and then years of sharing Archie's bedroom and with roommates at college dorms. The one-bedroom apartment was simple and sparsely furnished; Jughead wasn't expecting to have much company over except for an occasional visit from Archie, and so hadn't bothered getting more than the bare minimum.

His eyes were just beginning to close when he heard a muted bang from the next apartment over. He sat up and cocked his head to the side, listening. It was nearing midnight, hardly the time for construction projects. The walls were thin, so he could just make out the sounds of a voice laced with anger, but not thin enough for him to understand the words of the speaker. In answer to the angry voice, he heard another, even softer and not at all angry, maybe belonging to a woman? He heard a muted conversation for a few moments longer, then the voices stopped, followed by another banging noise, heavy footsteps, and the slamming of a door.

Jughead waited for a moment, listening, fighting with himself. He prided himself on keeping his nose out of other people's business unless absolutely necessary for information for his writing. On the other hand, upon leaving Riverdale, Archie had reminded Jughead that he shouldn't shut himself away in his room all the time. Jughead apparently _needed to get out and meet people and stop being so antisocial._

Jughead sighed and rolled his eyes, mentally cursing Archie before rising from his bed. He stepped out into the hallway of his apartment and made his way to the door adjacent to his. Number 304. He raised his fist to knock, hesitating momentarily, before steeling himself and rapping three times on the wooden door.

There was the sound of shuffling from inside, and then the door was flung open, and Jughead was temporarily stunned at the sight before him.

The woman who stood in the doorway was breathtakingly beautiful. She was a bit shorter than Jughead, with platinum blonde hair escaping her high ponytail in long strands that framed her oval face. She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized sweater that her petite frame seemed to swim in. She looked up at Jughead, mouth open and green eyes filled with surprise, as though she'd been expecting someone else to be at her door. Jughead couldn't blame her. The sight of his tall, lanky frame, awkward expression, and messy dark hair spilling out from the crown beanie he still couldn't bear to part with was usually met with odd expressions from strangers.

"Uh.." Jughead said, trying to come up with an adequate introduction. How do other people ( _Archie_ ) do this so easily? And what the hell had he been thinking, coming over here anyway? "Hi. I'm your new neighbor, just moved in next door in 303. I heard some…banging and stuff, just wanted to check and see if everything was alright."

The woman stared at him, and Jughead had the uncomfortable feeling of being scanned, as though she could see every single thing about him just from a glance. Then, she blinked and peeked her head out of the door slightly, eyes darting up and down the deserted hallway.

"Yeah, of course," she said. "I just had the TV on, must have been up a little loud. I'm sorry about that."

Jughead gave her a small smile that she didn't return. He didn't believe the obvious lie, but already felt as though he was sticking his nose where it didn't belong, and so decided against calling her out.

"It's not a problem." He replied. "I'm Jughead, by the way."

He stuck out his hand. The woman looked at it warily before slowly reaching out to shake it.

"Betty." She said. "Forgive me for asking, but what kind of a name is… _Jughead_?"

Jughead sighed. If he had a dollar for every time someone asked him that question…

"Believe me, Betty," he said. "My real name is even more ridiculous."

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Jughead-with-an-even-worse-real-name," Betty said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was kind of in the middle of something, so I should get back inside, but I'll see you around."

With that, Betty retreated into her apartment, gently closing the door after her.

Jughead stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling conflicted. He had a gut feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Betty hadn't been cold, but had seemed distracted and had an air of sadness about her. Jughead's interest had been piqued. Apartment number 304 was a mystery, and he wanted to solve it.

"Screw staying out of other people's business." He muttered, heading back to his apartment. He was going to do what he did best – hunt down the truth.

Hunting down the truth was almost immediately pushed to the back burner, as Jughead quickly became too busy to do anything about his personal curiosity, given the fact that he had started his new job and was quickly saddled with mountains of work. He found he didn't mind being busy – his position was definitely at the bottom of the totem pole, but he was excited to find that many opportunities to work his way up were available, and he still had time to work on his own writing. Until the day when he could become a hot-shot editor and publish his own books, he was content with his current assignment of reviewing manuscripts that were sent to the company, filtering out the completely shitty ones, and forwarding the rest on to the next person up the totem pole.

On Friday, after his first full week came to an end, he treated himself to some truly greasy Chinese food and lounged on the couch comfortably, looking forward to the weekend ahead of him. Life was good; he'd made it out of Riverdale, started anew in an exciting city at a job he loved, and he still had Archie and his dad at his side, despite the geographic differences.

The only downside so far was the whole… _adulting_ thing. Being able to fend for himself since he was fifteen didn't make him like doing any of the boring adult stuff any more, and it wasn't like he had had to pay bills or do his taxes when he was homeless. Speaking of mundane adult chores, Jughead caught sight of his trash bin, which was somehow already overflowing. He groaned at the prospect of lugging it down three flights of stairs to the trash room (one drawback of his apartment complex was the lack of elevators).

As he headed for the stairs, laden down with a week's worth of trash, he passed by apartment number 304, and was again reminded of Betty. Her apartment had been relatively quiet for the past week, but he hadn't caught so much of a glimpse of her nor the person she presumably lived with, the one with the angry voice.

He made his way down to the trash room and he opened the door, lost in thought about how he should approach this new mystery in his life, and was halfway through dumping his trash out before he realized that the focus of this mystery was doing the same right next to him.

"Oh," he said in surprise. "Hi, Betty."

She looked up at the sound of her name, but quickly turned away, suddenly very interested in the trash can before her. Her hair was loose today, long strands hanging in a curtain so Jughead couldn't get a good view of her face.

"Hi Jughead." She said quietly, placing the lid on the large trash can and turning to exit the room.

"Wait, Betty," Jughead said. Betty stopped and hung in the doorway, facing away from him "Um..I'm new around here and don't know many people, so I was wondering if maybe you would want to watch a movie with me?"

Betty didn't turn around, but her shoulders visibly tensed.

"I have leftover Chinese, if you're hungry," Jughead plied. "Honestly, I'm not that great at making friends, and my best friend from home keeps nagging me to be more social. So I thought I'd give it a go."

"Well, how can I say no to leftover Chinese food and such a heartwarming story?" Betty said, tension slowly leaving her body as she laughed lightly and turned to look at him.

Jughead's initial pleasure at his success turned to shock as he noticed that Betty was sporting a split lip.

"Your lip," he blurted out, grin sliding off his face. "What happened?"

Her mannerisms changed faster than her agreement to hang out with him, smile evaporating and a neutral, steeled expression replacing her previous happiness.

"Oh," she muttered, fingers raising to gently prod at the red line. "I can be a bit of a klutz. I just fell while I was getting out of the shower this morning."

Jughead didn't answer. She was obviously lying again, but it wasn't his place to call her out. Despite his apparent lack of social skills, he knew that she was uncomfortable around him, and if he wanted to build up trust and a relationship he would have to respect that.

So, Jughead plastered a smile on his face, launched into a story about Archie's own clumsiness, and tried not to think about the yelling he'd heard from apartment number 304.


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks later, Jughead was pleasantly surprised to find that he truly enjoyed spending time with Betty. She was intelligent, kind, witty, and her taste in movies was almost as good as his own ( _almost_ \- he had trouble looking past her love for _Mean Girls_ ).

As time passed and their friendship grew, he found that his interest in finding out the truth had shifted from a simple curiosity to a genuine concern for her wellbeing. It often took Betty hours and sometimes days to respond to texts, and on the rare occasions when they could hang out, it was short and sporadic, and always in his own apartment.

Though closed-off initially, Betty had slowly begun opening up more and more to Jughead as time went on. He learned that she had gone to NYU for journalism for two years but had "discontinued her education" (Jughead filed this information away for later consideration), had an older sister named Polly who lived on a farm in Montana, loved strawberry milkshakes more than any other food or drink, and lived with her boyfriend of four years, Lucas.

The first time Betty mentioned Lucas, Jughead immediately became suspicious. They were lounging on the couch after finishing another movie (Hitchcock this time, thank God) when conversation turned to Jughead's job – Betty's eyes shone with desire as she listened to Jughead describe his responsibilities and his goal of publishing a novel of his own.

"You're so lucky," Betty said wistfully. "I'd love to have a job like that."

"You could always finish school." Jughead suggested. "Only two years left, right? And you could probably take night classes if you don't have time during the day because of work or whatever."

Betty's face fell and she hugged her knees to her chest.

"Oh," she said softly. "No, I don't think that's possible. Lucas probably wouldn't like it."

"Lucas?" Jughead asked, interest piqued.

"Yeah," Betty replied, playing with her hair. "Lucas is my boyfriend. I live with him now, we've been together since I was a freshman at NYU. He works very hard for us, so he doesn't want me to worry about having a job or going to school."

Jughead hummed in response, deciding not to inform Betty that that behavior was highly unhealthy in a relationship. He had found that any time he tried to bring up Betty's life, such as the fact that she rarely left the apartment building – much less her own apartment – she would laugh it off and quickly change the subject, or completely shut him down and make up an excuse as to why she had to suddenly leave.

This time around, she quickly turned the conversation around to him, asking him what his novel would be about. She was definitely hiding something from him, and Jughead would assume she was hiding it from her other friends as well, except that he wasn't sure she _had_ any other friends.

On the following Saturday night, Jughead sat at his desk, blank Word document open on his laptop before him, thoughts turning to Betty instead of the story he had initially wanted to start working on. The information he had gathered so far on her behavior was swirling around his mind, and he quickly began typing it out to organize his material, completely forgoing his novel-writing.

 _What are the facts?_

 _1\. Betty is hiding something_

 _2\. She lives with her boyfriend, Lucas (4 year relationship)_

 _3\. Split lip – secretive_

 _4\. Closed-off in general…where are family or friends?_

 _5\. Dropped out of school, probably because of Lucas, restricted from getting a job_

 _6\. Lying to protect someone?_

He had just finished typing the last fact when a loud bang interrupted his train of thought. Something was going on in Betty's apartment again. Jughead remained at his desk, fingers paused over the keyboard, listening. A murmur of voices, a pause, then the sound of something shattering.

Jughead shot up out of his chair and rushed to his door. He threw it open and was just about to run over to 304 when the door was flung open and a man stumbled out. Jughead retreated back into his doorway but kept his eyes on the man. He was obviously drunk, wearing jeans, t-shirt, and a flannel that was rumpled and hanging off his left shoulder. He didn't turn to face Jughead, instead stumbling his way over to the stairs, so Jughead couldn't get a good look at his face.

Once the heavy footsteps of who Jughead presumed to be Lucas had faded down the stairs, Jughead quietly moved to 304. Lucas hadn't even bothered to close the door behind him, so Jughead poked his head through the doorway and gently knocked on the wood.

"Betty?" He called. "It's Jughead. Are you in here?"

She didn't answer, but he heard shuffling and the tinkling of glass coming from the kitchen.

"Betty, I'm coming in." Jughead warned, and then made his way into the apartment. The layout was identical to his, and he quickly headed to the kitchen.

"Holy shit." He gasped as he turned the corner. Betty was crumpled on the floor against the fridge, looking quite the mess in rumpled clothing and messy hair, surrounded by shards of broken glass that she was desperately trying to clean up with her _bare hands_ before Jughead reached her.

"Hey, hey, stop that," Jughead said, crouching down to pull her bleeding fingers away from the mess. "You're hurting yourself."

Betty didn't seem to hear him. "It – It was just an accident, I was clumsy and – and I dropped it, I swear."

Jughead brushed her hair away from her face. Her left cheek was red and well on its way to bruising. The split lip which had just recently healed over had returned, thick blood dripping sluggishly down her chin. She wasn't crying, but her fists were tightly clenched, and her eyes were empty.

"Betty, did he hurt you? Did Lucas do this?"

"It's nothing, Jughead." Betty said, pulling away from his touch. "He just – it doesn't matter. Don't worry about it."

"Jesus, Betty, you're bleeding on the floor! There's shattered glass all around you and your face –"

"My face?" Betty said questioningly. She unclenched her right hand and raised her fingers to probe at her face. Her expression turned to one of surprise as she felt the warm blood on her chin and the apparent soreness of her cheek.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Jughead asked, concern skyrocketing at the fact that she didn't even seem aware that she'd been hurt. "Do I need to call an ambulance?"

Betty shook her head violently.

"No, no, no ambulance." She said vehemently. "I'm fine, just a little accident."

"Betty –" Jughead cut himself off, sighing. First order of business was making sure Betty was okay. Then they could talk. "C'mon, let me help you get cleaned up."

He rose to his feet, and stuck out his hands to help Betty up. She hesitated a moment, then placed her bloodied hands into his and allowed him to help her stand and lead her to the bathroom.

"First aid kit?" He asked, motioning for her to sit on the edge of the tub.

"Under the sink." She said, and Jughead retrieved it before kneeling in front of her.

For Jughead, this was nothing new – being involved with the Serpents as well as being best friends with Archie, Riverdale's resident bleeding heart and grade-A klutz, meant that Jughead had his fair share of experiences patching up injured people. But Jughead wondered if this was out of the ordinary for Betty, if she never had anyone there to put band-aids on her cuts and ice on her bruises, if she had to do it all herself.

He took his time making sure he was thorough, while filling the awkward silence with a story about the time he and Jellybean had gotten lost while on a camping trip (totally her fault, by the way). Betty smiled softly at the mention of Jughead's sister – one of the things they had in common was their love for their siblings. As he chattered about Jellybean's terrible sense of direction, he pulled glass from her fingers and wrapped band-aids around the slices, and tightly wound gauze around her palms, where small crescent-shaped cuts were sluggishly bleeding. He rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie to make sure he had gotten all the cuts from the glass, but felt his blood go cold when he saw dark bruises on her forearm, in the distinct shape of fingers.

Betty avoided his gaze, chewing the inside of her cheek, and Jughead finished bandaging in silence.

When he finished, he carefully packed away the supplies and returned the first aid kit to its place under the sink.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's have hot cocoa."

He lead the way out of the bathroom and made sure Betty was sitting comfortable on the couch with a pillow and blanket before he headed to the kitchen. He found a broom and dustpan in the closet and quickly swept up the broken glass, then took a wet paper towel to some smears of blood. Once he was satisfied with his work, he fixed two mugs of hot cocoa, and brought them out to the living room.

Betty smiled gratefully when he handed one to her, and he sat down on the couch, making sure to maintain some distance. He took a sip of his drink and then sighed.

"Okay, Betty." He said. "What the hell is going on here?"


	3. Chapter 3

Jughead didn't sleep that night. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, endlessly going over what Betty had told him. The words that poured from her mouth were stuck in his mind, rattling around and repeating themselves in her voice, emotionless. All he wanted was to sleep, to forget about the horror that was Betty's life for a few hours, and then he could try again, then he could face her, then he could come up with a plan to help her.

But he had no such luck, sleep proving to be just as elusive as Betty's desire to actually do something about her shitty situation.

Jughead hadn't wanted to leave Betty alone, but she had insisted that she couldn't risk Lucas coming home in the middle of the night and finding a strange man asleep on their couch. And after everything she'd told him, Jughead couldn't blame her.

Betty had been reluctant to admit anything to Jughead at first, but by the time she'd stalled long enough that her hot cocoa had gone cold, her resolve wore thin and she finally told him everything.

Her voice was monotonous, as though she was detached from the living room, from Jughead, as though she was just mechanically repeating the events of the past four years without any involvement in them.

"He wasn't always like this," She started, eyes glazed and staring at a point above Jughead's head. "When we first met, he was…incredible. He was everything I'd ever wanted, and it seemed so perfect. I didn't have the best home life, so when I moved to the city and started college, I felt like I was at a turning point in my life. Like I was finally in control of what happened to me and that everything would be okay from here on out. And then I met Lucas shortly after, and it just felt like my life was finally coming together, like things were finally going the way they were supposed to be going. Looking back, I guess I was naïve."

Betty sighed, and shifted into a more comfortable position. Jughead didn't miss the slight wince of pain as she moved her bruised body.

"We moved into this apartment at the start of my sophomore year. He's three years older than me, so he had already graduated and gotten a job. Something in business, I think he has connections with his family. He never tells me much about his work. And things were okay in the beginning, at least for a while. He had a short temper, but he never hit me. But everything was always my fault, you know? He blamed me for things that were outside of my control."

Betty paused to sip her hot cocoa.

"Things only escalated from there. It started out minor, just some pushing and shoving. He started…hitting me by the time spring semester started. The first time, he punched me in the face because I'd gone to get coffee with a friend from class and hadn't told him. I walked out that night, stayed with a friend for the night. And he was so apologetic the next day, he told me it would never happen again, that he didn't know what came over him. And I believed him. I believed him every time he would do the same thing and then apologize and swear he would never do it again.

"I dropped out of school at the end of that year. I quit my job, and I declined the internship I had for that summer. Lucas was making enough money to support the both of us, so there was no point in me finishing my education and getting a job afterwards. He's more than capable of taking care of us for a long time."

Betty's eyes finally met Jughead's.

"I know we have some issues, Jughead. I know this relationship isn't as healthy as it could be. I'm not an idiot. But I love him. And Lucas loves me. He just…he just gets angry sometimes. But we're working through it. That's what love is – working through the bad parts because you care about each other."

Jughead finally broke his silence, unable to hold his tongue at her words.

"Betty, are you…are you even listening to yourself?" He said, incredulously. "You're obviously an incredibly intelligent person, you have to realize that this relationship isn't just unhealthy, this isn't a bad part, it's _abusive_. What he does to you? That's unforgivable, no matter how many times he apologizes and makes empty promises that he won't do it again!"

Betty was shaking her head.

"You don't understand." She said.

"You're right, I don't." Jughead said, pulling off his beanie and tugging his hair in frustration. "This isn't love, Betty. Love does not involve physically abusing your partner."

Betty remained silent, staring down into her cocoa.

"Can't you leave him? Isn't there someone you can stay with, your parents, with Polly?"

"My parents made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Polly is happy with her life, and I don't want to burden her with having to take care of me on top of her twins. Lucas is all I have, and he's all I need."

"Do you really believe that? Or did Lucas drill it into your head?"

Betty's eyes flashed, for the first time showing some sort of emotion during their whole conversation.

"What gives you the right to try and lecture me on my own life?" She said, anger bleeding into her voice. "I'm not some – some porcelain doll that's going to break at any moment. I'm not someone who needs _saving_ , Jughead. This is my life. This is the way it is, okay? You're going to have to respect that."

Jughead stared at Betty in shock. Lucas really had one hell of a hold on her. He sighed and set his cocoa – long gone cold – down on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Betty." He apologized, replacing his beanie. "I didn't mean to make you upset. And you're right, I'm not one to dictate your life or what you do with it. But Betty," he paused, looking up at her, "if you're going to say that I have no right to tell you what to do with your life, then you can't let Lucas do that either. It's _your life_. You're the only one who has any say in it. Not me, and not Lucas."

Betty didn't answer, and Jughead quietly cleaned up the mugs of hot chocolate.

" _He's WHAT?!"_

Jughead winced at Archie's tone, holding his cell phone away from his ear.

"Jeez, a little quieter, please. You've gotta save those pipes for your next big hit, not for blowing my damn ear off."

" _Sorry, sorry."_ Archie hurriedly apologized. _"Just, that's so crazy. She actually thinks everything is fine?"_

Jughead sighed, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder and returning to chopping up an onion, soft music playing from his open laptop. He'd finally decided that his bank account deserved a break from ordering food out all the time and was attempting to cook for the first time.

"Yeah," he answered. "the whole situation is completely fucked up, and I don't know what to do about it."

" _Call the cops?"_

"Yeah, because cops have been so helpful in the past." Jughead snorted. "It doesn't matter anyway, they won't be able to do anything unless Betty admits it. And there's no proof. She's covered in bruises but she lies about where they came from."

Archie sighed on the other end of the line.

" _I'm sorry, Jug. This is really shitty. Maybe just keep talking to her, try and convince her that she needs to get away from Lucas."_

Jughead set down his knife and tipped the chopped onions into his pan, where minced garlic was hissing at him in the oil.

"Yeah, that's what I'd figured I'd try. It just feels like my hands are tied until she decides that she needs help. Anyway, I gotta run, I'm trying to cook and I think I already burned some garlic."

" _Jughead Jones, eating something other than greasy hamburgers and takeout?"_ Archie teased, chuckling.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Andrews." Jughead said, rolling his eyes. "Not like you're any better."

After some indignant comments from Archie ( _"Hey, I boiled pasta yesterday!"_ ), they said their goodbyes, and Jughead returned to trying to save his meal.

Halfway into chopping a pepper, his phone rang again. He wiped his hands off on his jeans and reached for his phone, expecting it to be Archie, but instead Betty's name lit up the screen.

"Betty? What's up?" He answered.

" _Um,"_ her voice was shaky. _"I – I think I need you to take me to the hospital."_

Jughead's blood ran cold, and he immediately flipped the stove off and closed his laptop.

"Okay, okay," he said, trying to sound calm. "Are you in your apartment? Can I come over or is Lucas there?"

" _No, no, he left."_ Betty said, voice tight with pain. _"It's nothing major, it's – there's just something wrong with my arm. I think it might be broken."_

"Okay," Jughead said, already running out the door, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way. "I'll be there in two seconds, don't worry."

He ended the call and sprinted to Betty's apartment, heart racing at the thought of her being hurt again. He burst in, calling her name as he turned corners to find her.

"In here," she answered.

Jughead turned into the living room and found her sitting on the edge of the couch, phone beside her and left arm cradled in her lap, bent at an odd angle. Her eyes were full of tears that didn't fall.

"Betty," he said softly, sitting down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Jesus, what happened?"

She shook her head, gritting her teeth.

"It doesn't matter. It was my fault. He just got drunk and mad because I made a mistake."

Jughead bit his tongue, fighting the urge to tell her that this was getting out of hand. Lucas was breaking bones for fuck's sake.

 _Prioritize, Jughead_. He told himself. First order of business was getting Betty to a hospital.

"Let me call an ambulance. Are you hurt anywhere else?" He asked, pulling out his phone.

Betty shook her head.

"No ambulance, please." She begged. "He'll get mad if he finds out. Just – just call or taxi or something. It's just my arm, it can wait until we get there."

"Christ, Betty." Jughead sighed, dialing the local number for a taxi service. "You can't live like this."

Betty remained silent while Jughead gave their address to the service. She remained silent while they rode in the taxi to the emergency room. She didn't say a single word except to tell the nurse at the front desk that she'd fallen down the stairs.

Jughead sat in the waiting room, alone, while Betty was taken for x-rays and a cast. He watched as people came and went, and wondered what they were there for, whether any of the other people with broken bones and bruises were lying and covering up for their abusive partners or parents.

Eventually he retreated to the bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, dialed Archie's number, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi there. I'm terribly sorry this is so much horrifically later than all the other chapters. Life is getting in the way, as is mental health. I promise this story will be finished, though. I'm sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but there is one more planned that will hopefully be longer. Thank you for sticking with me, and I really appreciate all of the reviews and follows 3

In the weeks following the broken arm incident, Jughead tried to keep as close an eye on Betty as he could. Luckily, being at a publishing company meant that he could work from home for at least part of the week, so he could spend time with Betty while Lucas was at his job.

They sat amiably on the couch most of the time, watching TV shows and movies and stuffing their faces with food (Jughead quickly discovered that Betty was a better cook than he'd ever be). On some days, Jughead brought his laptop with him so he could work on editing a new manuscript, and Betty would read over his shoulder, making comments every now and then on how the work could be improved (Jughead quickly discovered that she might also be a better editor than he).

He tried his best to respect Betty's wishes and not bring up the abuse, but he was finding it increasingly difficult as time went on and she grew paler, bruises standing out in stark contrast to her skin, and thinner, no matter how much he made her eat.

The fall quickly evaporated into a New York City winter, and the snow that kept Jughead inside resulted in a lot of free time, mostly spent with Betty. As Thanksgiving quickly approached, they sat at her kitchen table, drinking hot coffee and discussing their plans for the holiday.

"Are you going back to Riverdale?" Betty asked, the sleeves of her pale pink sweater pulled so far past her wrists they almost enveloped her fingertips, cradling her cup of coffee for warmth.

"Yeah," Jughead responded, smiling at the thought of seeing his father, Archie, and Mr. Andrews again. "I'm excited to see everyone and for things to be normal in Riverdale again. How about you? Are you going to Montana?"

Betty shook her head.

"No, not this year, we're staying in the city. Some of Lucas's family might stop by, but nothing set in stone yet."

"Don't you want to go see Polly? And the twins?" Jughead inquired.

"Maybe next year." Betty smiled wryly.

Jughead hummed and sipped his coffee, but bit his tongue.

"Tell me more about Riverdale," Betty said, quickly changing the topic. "You mentioned some weird stuff going down while you were in high school, but never got into it."

Jughead grinned at her.

"Strap yourself in, Betty Cooper," he teased. "Prepare yourself for the story of Riverdale, the town with more dark secrets than people."

Betty laughed, and Jughead launched into his tale, starting from the summer of Archie's abandonment and Jason Blossom's mysterious death, describing the business deals of the Lodges and the Southside Serpents, and ending with the downfall of the Blossom family.

Betty listened, eyes wide. She listened with rapt attention, coffee slowly going cold, and didn't say a word until Jughead had finished the story, ending with a dramatic retelling of the day he and Archie had packed up and left for college, quite literally watching Riverdale and all its mysteries fade in the rearview mirror.

"No. Way." She said, once he had finished. "There's no way. One town cannot _possibly_ have that much ridiculous drama."

"Better believe it." Jughead responded. "You're talking to someone who was directly involved in it. I decided to turn it into my first novel a while ago, when all the mysteries first started going down, but it's slow going. College and work took up a lot of my time, but I've been making progress ever since I settled down here."

"Will you let me read it once it's finished?" She asked, eyes shining with excitement.

Jughead felt his heart flutter. _Cool it, Jones,_ he thought. _Bury those feelings deep, deep down._

"Of course," he smiled, hoping he wasn't blushing. "I promise that you'll be the first to lay eyes on the completed novel."

Betty laughed. "I'm holding you to that. Even before Archie and your dad, okay?"

"I'm offended!" Jughead said, clutching his heart. "How could you ever think I'd break a promise?" He reached over and playfully nudged her shoulder.

Betty's reaction was instantaneous. She flinched away from his touch, but it couldn't completely hide her wince and slight gasp of pain when his hand made even the gentlest of contact with her shoulder.

Jughead felt the familiar fury rise up in him again as he immediately pulled his hand away from her, instead wrapping it around his coffee mug.

"Let me see." He said, barely containing his anger.

Betty avoided his gaze. After a moment of tense silence, she pulled the collar of her sweater past her shoulder. Jughead caught sight of a deep blue bruise that covered most of her shoulder and upper arm, disappearing down to cover the skin hidden by her sweater.

"That was last night?" Jughead ground out, remembering the faint sounds of thumping coming from her apartment.

Betty shrugged her sweater back into place.

"It doesn't matter." She said, staring at her coffee. Jughead felt the anger bubble up, out of his control.

"Like _hell_ it doesn't matter!" Jughead yelled, rising to his feet so quickly that his chair toppled backwards. Betty tensed, curling back in her chair as far away from Jughead as she could get. She finally raised her eyes to look at him, and he caught a glimpse of absolute terror on her face before her hand (the one in the cast, in some ironic twist) came up to shield her head from a nonexistent blow.

Immediately, Jughead felt the anger seep out of him, replaced quickly by horror and disgust. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Oh, God, Betty," he said, coming to kneel beside her. "I'm so sorry, please don't be afraid of me, I'm sorry."

Betty slowly lowered her hand, and Jughead gently reached out, holding it in his own. He felt tears burning his eyes, feeling ashamed and disgusted with himself for scaring Betty.

"It's okay," she muttered, cradling his cheek with her hand. "It's okay. Please don't cry."

Jughead smiled regretfully, covering Betty's hand on his cheek with his own. They were impossibly close to one another, and Jughead couldn't keep himself from staring at her full lips, wondering how they would feel against his own.

In the end, he wasn't the one who moved. One second, he and Betty were caught in a moment of silence, a moment of absolute clarity, before she moved. She gently captured his lips with her own, hands moving to rest around his neck and in his hair (under the beanie).

He reciprocated, pushing thoughts of Lucas to the back of his mind as he focused on the feeling of Betty's soft lips against his own, the taste of coffee strong in their mouths. For once in his life, his mind was completely silent, no anxiety-induced thoughts or theories running through his head. He had never felt so safe in his entire life; he felt as though he could live in this moment forever, and nothing in the entire world would ever be able to get to him.

He hoped Betty felt the same.

They broke apart after a while. He opened his eyes slowly, staring into Betty's own green ones. He smiled at her and she laughed airily, moving to rest her head on his shoulder. He buried his nose in her hair, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo, and wrapped her up in his arms.

In that moment, he promised himself that he would finally take action. Betty may be in denial about Lucas's abuse, but Jughead was not, and it was time he helped her when she could not help herself.


	5. Chapter 5

Since the busy New York City streets invalidated any desire Jughead may have had of owning a car, he relied on Archie for rides to and from Riverdale. He didn't feel too bad about it, since New York City was right in between Boston and Riverdale, and he figured making Archie drive both ways just about made up for the failed road trip all those years ago.

He was happy to see Archie again, and they spent most of the long drive to Riverdale catching each other up on their lives. They easily fell back into their usual friendship, and the drive passed quickly in a blur of favorite music and jokes.

Jughead was grateful to have a normal Thanksgiving in Riverdale, no drama or mysteries disturbing the time he had with his dad and the Andrews. He made sure to text Betty frequently, wishing her a happy Thanksgiving and sending her the latest funny stories from the Andrews household. Her responses were few and far between, and Jughead did his best to not worry too much.

Neither of them had brought up the kiss. Though Jughead wanted nothing more than to kiss her soft lips again and again, to hold her in his arms and keep her from ever being hurt again, he was afraid to overstep his boundaries. And then the time came for him to leave for Riverdale, and the opportunity to talk about it had passed.

Eventually, he and Archie were packing up his car to return to New York City and Boston, laden down with so many leftovers Jughead wondered if Archie's car could handle it all. Jughead was anxious to return to New York and check in on Betty. He wanted to hold himself to not sitting on his ass and letting the abuse continue, but her recent messages had carried a tone of confidence and happiness that was unusual for her. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe things were getting better for her.

Archie dropped him off late on Sunday night after a busy day with their families, and he was so exhausted that it took all his strength to shoot Betty a message letting her know he was home and would stop by tomorrow before he collapsed into bed, finally letting sleep overtake him.

He didn't see Betty for another few days, the return to work and real life taking up most of his time. She had been rather silent on her end as well, and Jughead hadn't heard any disturbances from the other side of the wall, so he assumed things were going alright.

They finally saw each other after Jughead returned from work on Friday. They had made plans to spend the evening together, as Lucas was off on some business trip for the weekend. Jughead knew that both he and Betty were aware it was not a business trip, but neither said a word about it. Instead, he put it out of his mind, assumed she did as well, and picked up Thai food on his way home. He and Betty proceeded to burrow into a nest of blankets on her couch, queuing up a list of truly terrible horror movies to make fun of ("Come on, that blood is so _obviously_ ketchup." "No, you idiots, why would you split up in the middle of the woods? Rookie mistake!").

Somewhere on the other side of one of the Final Destination movies, Betty fell asleep, head coming to rest comfortable on Jughead's shoulder. He took a moment to observe her sleeping – all the worry drained from her face, and he couldn't help but think she looked extremely cute, hair in a messy bun instead of the usual strict ponytail, and full lips parted slightly. He slowly took her container of Thai food out of her lax hands, one still encased in the cast, and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, being careful not to jostle her head.

He muted the movie, the screams of the murderer's next victim evaporating into the silence, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against him and rearranging the blankets to comfortable cover them both.

He relaxed into the back of the couch, watching the silenced movie until he was lulled into a restful sleep.

He woke up late the next morning, confused momentarily at his unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying on the couch, buried under mountains of blankets. He could smell the alluring scent of coffee and pancakes, and blearily sat up, blindly searching for his beanie.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Betty said from the kitchen, grinning as he jammed his beanie over his ruffled hair.

"Hmm, mornin'," he replied, stifling a yawn as he went to join her in the kitchen. "What's the time?"

"Almost noon," Betty said, piling pancakes onto a plate and handing it to him. "Butter and syrup are on the counter."

"Betty Cooper, have I ever told you that you're a goddess?" Jughead said, tone and expression completely serious.

Betty laughed and shook her head.

"The goddess of pancakes, huh?" She teased. Jughead grinned back and began drowning his pancakes in butter and syrup.

"Th' beth goddeth imy ohinien." Jughead mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

Betty giggled. "I have absolutely no idea what you just said."

Jughead rolled his eyes at her and dramatically swallowed the buttery goodness.

"I said, 'The best goddess in my opinion.'" He grinned at her, and a light pink tinge spread across her cheeks.

"So, what do you want to do today?" She asked, busying herself with washing dishes.

Jughead shrugged, shoveling more pancakes into his mouth.

"I'm a pretty laidback kind of guy." He said. "Suggest something, and I'll approve or veto it."

Betty chuckled. "Well, I've always wanted to go ice skating at Rockefeller. I haven't been ice skating in so long."

Jughead audibly swallowed. "Say no more, Betty. Ice skating we shall go. Fair warning, though. I've never been ice skating, so you are not allowed to make fun of me if I suck."

"Deal!" Betty said, grin breaking across her face. "Hurry up and finish, I wanna beat the crowds."

Jughead was beginning to think that there was nothing Betty did not excel in. He watched in awe as she gracefully glided across the ice while he stuck to the edge, clinging onto the barrier for dear life as he inched along.

Betty slid to a stop beside him, cheeks flushed with excitement and from the cold weather, eyes glittering with happiness.

"Told you," Jughead griped. "I'm pretty terrible."

Betty laughed.

"Well, at least you recognize that you're bad. Come on."

She offered him a gloved hand, and he slid his fingers between hers, allowing her to pull him away from the safety of the barrier. She turned to grasp his other hand in hers and began slowly skating backwards in front of him, keeping him steady as he clumsily tried to make his feet move.

"There, see! You're doing just fine!" Betty smiled widely at him, and Jughead couldn't help but share her joy. He thought that this was how Betty should look all the time – skin clear of bruises, face full and healthy, and happiness on her features.

He was almost moving on autopilot when they reached the enormous Christmas tree at the end of the rink. He managed to pull them to a stop without sending them both painfully to the ice, and he gently brought his gloved hands up to her face. A gentle snow had begun to fall, thick flakes coming to rest on Betty's face before quickly melting away. He moved without thinking, leaning down to kiss first the tip of her nose, where a snowflake had just landed. He gave her time to pull away, to stop him, but instead she tilted her face up to allow him to kiss her slightly chapped lips.

A few people whistled and whooped as they skated past, and Jughead could feel Betty smiling against his lips. He broke away after a moment and grinned down at her.

"Come on," She said, blush spreading across her cheeks. "Your skating is still not up to par, Jones."

Jughead laughed and allowed her to resume pulling him across the ice, wishing that the day would never end.

Looking back, Jughead supposed that he should have listened to that tiny part of him that was telling him everything was too good to be true.

His life fell apart on a Wednesday, just four days after their magical day ice skating around the Christmas tree. Lucas had returned from his trip on Sunday night, and Jughead didn't see Betty until Tuesday, when Lucas had gone out to who knows where (except they _did_ know where, they knew he was spending his time at bars, getting drunk on cheap liquor and spending his nights with other women).

Betty came to his apartment, looking tired but acting unnervingly calm. She held herself carefully, moving slowly and minimally, and Jughead was sure her old hoodie from high school was hiding fresh bruises.

They had a typical night in – takeout food, movies, and good conversations. As the night wound down and Betty stood in his doorway on her way out, she paused for a moment, looking at Jughead with something he couldn't quite recognize.

"Jughead," She started, smiling softly at him. "Thank you."

She reached out with her uninjured hand and intertwined their fingers. She leaned forward and placed a single, chaste kiss on his lips, then turned away, fingers slipping through his own.

He wished he had told her he loved her.

The next day, she didn't respond to any of his texts, and his calls went unanswered. He worried all day long, trying to distract himself by working on his laptop, but the stony silence from the apartment next door began to get to him.

At 9:06pm, he left his apartment and knocked on Betty's door. He knew Lucas wouldn't be home – he was rarely home these days, and only for short spans of time. Betty didn't answer the door, but when he tried the handle he found it unlocked.

"Betty?" He called, poking his head through the door. "Are you here?"

Of course she was here, she never risked leaving the apartment when Lucas was still in town. But why wasn't she answering?

Jughead slowly moved his way through the apartment, noting that there were no signs of recent use in the kitchen, and the entire place felt uncomfortably clean, as though no one really lived there.

He moved down the hallway, where the bedrooms and bathroom were located.

"Betty?" He called one more time, knocking on the door to the master bedroom, which was hanging slightly ajar. "Hope you're decent, or just sleeping."

He pushed the door open, and suddenly his blood froze in his veins.

"Oh God," He choked out, stumbling over to the bed. "Fuck, Betty, no no no no no!"

She was lying peacefully on her back, dressed in her usual jeans and pastel sweater. Her arms were spread out to her sides, and on the floor next to her was a bright orange pill bottle, completely empty. Jughead immediately recognized the label as the pain pills she'd been prescribed for her broken arm, the ones she apparently hadn't once taken because she was saving them up for this night.

He clumsily pulled out his phone, fingers stumbling over the numbers as he punched in 911 and explained to the operator that there was an attempted suicide and _God she needs an ambulance, please she took so many fucking pills, she's not breathing_.

Time passed in a flurry of confusion. Jughead refused to accept the fact that Betty's skin was ice cold when he touched his fingers to her neck, trying to find a pulse. He barely realized what was going on until the paramedics showed up and one of them asked if he wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance.

He didn't remember responding, but he assumed he had nodded numbly, because the next thing he knew he was in a hospital waiting room, staring at his shaking hands as he waited for news on Betty.

It took less time than he thought it would for the doctor to come out and tell him that Betty was dead. That she was _So sorry, but it was too late. She just took too many pills. There was nothing more we could have done._

Jughead wanted to scream that yes, yes there was something more they could have done. There was something more that _he_ could have done. He could have gotten her help, he could have noticed that there was something off about her he could have he could have he could have…

But he didn't.

He was frozen in his seat. The doctor kept talking, but he couldn't make out any words she was saying. He was completely unaware of everything until an envelope was placed in his hands.

His name was on the front, written in Betty's neat script.

He stuffed it into his jacket pocket and walked out of the hospital. He kept walking until it felt like the letter was burning a hole through the fabric and into his skin. Then, he stopped, bought a pack of cigarettes, sat himself down on a bench where he smoked through three of them, and opened the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper with only a few lines written. It read:

 _Juggie,_

 _I'm so sorry. I know I'm hurting you. I hope someday you can forgive me – it is hard to make other people understand the reasons I've done the things I've done in my life, and this isn't any easier. I need you to know that I loved you very much. You made these last few months the best of my life, and I wanted to thank you for that._

 _You will forever have my love,_

 _Betty_

He sat for a long while, staring at the note, until tears blurred his vision so the words danced tauntingly in front of his eyes.

He swallowed the tears down and called Archie.

It wasn't like all those movies he watched or those stories he read.

When he woke up the next day and Betty was still dead, the world didn't stop.

He wanted it to. Oh God, he wanted it to. He wanted time to freeze so he could catch up, so he could figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do with his life now that she wasn't a part of it.

He wanted to scream at everyone and everything that kept moving afterwards. He wanted to tell them that they were fools for continuing on, that they were lying to themselves. Couldn't they see that the very air had shattered to pieces, leaving nothing for them to breathe? Couldn't they see that all meaning had evaporated, that their work in this life was worth nothing if she wasn't in it?

They may as well all go blind, sight was worth nothing if they would never again see her wide smile and glittering eyes. They should all be deaf, because hearing was useless if not for the sound of her laughing or crying or singing or speaking.

Archie took a few days off from work and came to stay with Jughead the day before her funeral. When Jughead opened the door to his best friend, the numbness he had been feeling in response to her death finally wore off, and all that was left to feel was pure, unadulterated pain. Archie took one look at him before he smothered Jughead in a bear hug, leading him to the couch and dropping his backpack on the floor.

Jughead didn't know how long he cried, but the next thing he knew, he was waking up on the morning of the day Betty would be buried in the ground, face swollen and blotchy with tears, head resting on Archie's shoulder.

"Are you gonna be okay to go today?" Archie asked while they sat in his kitchen pretending to eat breakfast.

Jughead nodded numbly, stirring his cereal, wishing he could dissolve into nothingness like the soggy cornflakes.

Lucas wasn't at the funeral. Jughead didn't know where he was now, or if he even knew that Betty had taken her own life. He was too tired to care.

He finished his novel six months after she died. He could have completed it in one, but her death had cause everything else to pale in comparison. Nothing mattered to him anymore, and the prospect of getting out of bed to sit in front of a screen and type thousands of words that she would never read felt too monumental a task to complete.

When he finally completed the manuscript, he printed all the pages out and bound them together. He shoved the thick stack in his messenger bag, jammed his beanie on his head despite the warmer spring weather, and took the bus to the cemetery.

"Hi Betty," he said, sitting down heavily in front of her gravestone. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much. It's been hard. No shit, huh? But. I finished my novel. And as promised, you are the first person to hear it. Not only that, but I did you one better and dedicated it to you."

He paused for a moment, staring at the engraved letters spelling out Elizabeth Cooper.

"I miss you a lot." He said, voice cracking. "I miss you so much I can't breathe sometimes. But it's getting better. It still hurts, but it's getting better."

He swiped at his eyes, brushing away the gathering tears. God, he was so tired of crying. He took a deep breath and opened to the first page of his manuscript.

"Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town…"


End file.
